Set Apart This Dream
by Tears of the Moon 17
Summary: After a year has gone by since the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry finds himself summoned into an alternate dimension where Voldemort is still alive. Not his problem, right? Wrong. Between the fact that James and Lily Potter are ALIVE and that Voldemort summoned him for a reason, Harry is not going to get out of this easily. AU, MoD!Harry.
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does!

This is my first Harry Potter fanfic. Please no flames. If you don't like this fanfic, then please do not read.

Note- I'm an American so spelling will be American. Characters will probably "sound" American as well. Sorry. I just _cannot_ write like a British person!

Note 2- Some of it will be canon, some of it won't . I haven't really decided what will be different/same (when compared to canon) in each dimension. Characters will also be OOC (accidental and not). Expect angst, humor and a bit of fluffiness here and there.

Note 3- If there is any romance, it'll be from the canon pairings. However, the Harry in this dimension (you know, the semi-canon dimension) will not have a love interest or anything even remotely close to that. In the semi-canon dimension, Harry lost his only love and will not have another. Therefore, you will not be seeing the semi-canon dimension's Harry dating and adoring some girl. I will not be swayed on this subject. I mean it. (Don't get me wrong. I totally love Ginny and Harry's relationship in the books. I just want more angst.)

Note 4- There will be Dumbledore bashing. I love him in the books but in this fanfic, he's not so nice in the semi-canon dimension . . . He will be nice in the "other" dimension.

Note 5- I do not intend to copy anyone's work. Enough said. Seriously. I'm using a plot that most Harry Potter writers have used. What do you think will happen?

Note 6- I've dubbed the last battle (you know, when Voldie dies) as the Battle of Hogwarts (and so have many other Harry Potter fanfiction writers). I don't know what it's officially called but I could really care less. The Battle of Hogwarts sounds better than the Last Battle or the Final War. I don't know why but it sounds epic when you call it the Battle of Hogwarts. *shrugs*

Note 7- _Italics _will be thoughts, emphasis and spells. Parseltongue will be in _**bold ilatics**_.

Note 8- Instead of having Teddy born just days before the Battle of Hogwarts, he was born a _year_ before. Therefore, he was born during Harry's sixth year. Tonks and Remus got married three months before he was born. I _know_ that it's not canon. That is the point. I changed it so Teddy's two years old in this fic instead of one year old.

Anyway, enjoy! Remember, reviews feed my fingers~ Well, nice reviews. But you guys will be nice, right? After all, this is my _first_ Harry Potter fanfic.

* * *

_**Here you are down on your knees again,**__**  
**__**Trying to find air to breathe again.**__**  
**__**And only surrender will help you now.**__**  
**__**The floodgates are breaking and pouring out.**_

_**-**_**Again by Flyleaf**

* * *

**Chapter One**

Being the Chosen One had cost Harry Potter everything.

_Everything_.

Everything he had ever held dear to him, everything he had managed to become attach to during his cursed existence, everything he had ever wanted. Friends, family, love, a normal life, you name it. Being the Chosen One had taken it all away from him.

But maybe that made it easier for him. Maybe that made him appreciate the time he had shared with them so much more. Maybe that gave him an excuse to hide from the magical society that held him up on a pedestal for a year. Maybe it was better now that he had nothing left to lose.

After all, now there were rumors going around that he had used dark magic to defeat Voldemort a year ago, that he was the next dark lord.

Ha!

Harry? A dark lord? That was _beyond_ laughable. Harry had lost everything to the previous dark lord. How would he be able to do that everyone else? How would he be able to use the Dark Arts as Voldemort had to torment people and take away their very lives? How would he be able to stomach the darkness that would encase his soul, tainting his white magic and his mind? How would Harry be able to look someone straight in the eye and utter the killing curse?

Yes, Harry had used the other two other Unforgiveable curses but he would never use them again. _Never again_. One of them had been for himself, to punish the person who had taken his godfather from him. That had been almost inexcusable . . . Almost. The other curse had been for everyone else, to gain the other horcrux so that he would be able to defeat Lord Voldemort. Now he had no reason to use them, to once again utter their incantations.

Harry could now rest and finally relax . . .

Except now the magical community was passing the rumor around and muttering that Harry Potter was dangerous, _very_ dangerous. After all, he had defied the Ministry while he had been a mere teenager and even now refused the Ministry's offers -more like demands- to become Head Auror. Not to mention he had killed Lord Voldemort with little to no effort! Harry Potter obviously bowed to no government, to no leader and had an immense amount of power. So what was to stop him from going down that dark path? Who was going to be able to stop him when he finally decided to conquer the world? Who could say that Harry hadn't been a dark wizard when he defeated Voldemort?

Harry hated those rumors with a passion. He had lost _everything_ to the dark side! People had died _protecting _him from the dark side of the magical world, from Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. People had laid down their lives so that Harry would be able to defeat the dangerous, murderous Dark Lord. Why would he even _think_ of becoming a dark lord? Why would he throw away his small but only chance at a semi-normal life? Harry might have lost everything but he did have_ someone_ that had been left to him to protect for the rest of his life.

Teddy Lupin.

That boy was the only reason Harry got up in the morning and the only person he had left besides Neville, Luna and the few remaining members of the Order. Teddy had been living with Harry for a year and already Harry couldn't remember a day that he hadn't taken care of the boy. Even though Teddy's grandmother had insisted that it would be best if Teddy stayed with her, Harry had ignored her and taken Teddy into his house –well, Sirius' house- to raise the boy as if he were Harry's own son. Harry was the boy's godfather and he had _promised_ Remus that he would protect and care for Teddy, something that Sirius had not been able to do for Harry.

Of course Teddy's grandmother hadn't taken it well and had fought with Harry for custody, naming a list of several reasons for why Harry shouldn't be the boy's guardian. Harry had just turned eighteen and didn't know how to care for a baby. Harry had angry Death Eaters hunting him down for killing their master. Harry _obviously_ had post-traumatic stress disorder. Blah, blah, _blah_. No matter what reasons she gave and how close they came to the truth, Harry had been able to win the battle (he called in a favor) and gained custody of his father's best friend's only son.

That wouldn't have been possible if the ministry had known about Harry's _furry little problem_.

"Da-Da?"

Harry looked down at his crossed legs and saw his godson tugging on his pant leg, obviously trying to get his attention. "Yes?"

Teddy's grandmother had been right when she listed all of her reasons for why Harry shouldn't have custody of his godson. He _hadn't_ known how to take care of one year old baby. He _did_ have Death Eaters after him during those few months after the Battle of Hogwarts. He _did_ have PTSD but only a little bit . . . Okay, more than a bit.

But she had been wrong to try to keep Teddy from him.

During those dark months following the battle, Harry had managed to effectively lose himself in grief and vengeance for his fallen friends and family. He hadn't slept or eaten much whilst he spent two months hunting down the remaining Death Eaters. Harry wasn't even sure he would have ever come out of it if Teddy's grandmother hadn't come to tell him she intended to raise the boy.

Those words had woken him up instantly, leading to a month long custody battle which resulted in Harry's triumph.

"Da-Da," Teddy repeated as he pointed at his stuffed teddy bear that his tiny left hand was holding on to.

Harry smiled slightly as he stared at Teddy, thinking about the past. Andromeda, Teddy's grandmother, had most definitely surprised him when she wanted to raise Teddy. She hadn't cared for Remus for both his age and _furry little problem_. In her opinion, Remus wasn't even _human_ and therefore, had not business marrying her daughter. When she had told Harry that to his face, it had taken _every ounce_ of his self-control to not start a heated debate and to defend Remus. He had known that it would have been useless, a waste of his time.

People like her who thought lowly of these so-called dark creatures didn't change.

Not unless it suited them.

Shoving those thoughts away, Harry ruffled the boy's ever changing hair. "You want it to dance?"

Teddy nodded, giving Harry his I'm-cute-so-you-have-to-obey-me smile as his hair became black and his eyes became green.

_He's imitating me again_.

Harry laughed as his right fingers twitched ever so slightly. "You're going to break _so many hearts_ when you go to Hogwarts . . ."

_He thinks I'm his father but . . . I'm not. In time, he'll have questions, so _many_ questions. Then I'll tell him . . . Someday._

As Harry's voice died, the stuffed bear slipped out of Teddy's grasp and began to dance on the floor, making Teddy giggle and clap his hands repeatedly. With a soft smile, Harry gently picked up Teddy and placed him into his lap, taking comfort in the fact that Harry wasn't alone and certainly not on the battlefield.

_Time to crank it up a notch._

Smirking, Harry's right fingers once again twitched and the stuffed bear began to sing.

"_Voldie's nothin' but_ _a wartie, Voldie's nothin' but a wartie_."

Teddy's laughter became hysterical, his cheeks reddening as his smile widened. He was taking great pleasure in watching the bear dance and sing his favorite, slightly bothersome, made-up song. Harry's face softened at his godson enjoying the bear and he wondered if this was how he had acted as a baby. Had he laughed happily at such a simple thing? Had his parents watched him with amusement?

_Maybe_.

After a while, Harry could feel Teddy starting to slump against his chest and grasping Harry's left arm tightly.

"Armie . . ."

Smiling to himself, Harry carefully cradled Teddy in his arms and got off the floor to put his godson down for his afternoon nap.

_Maybe I'll take one too after I take a dose of that potion. It'll be the full moon tomorrow-_

Suddenly, something pulled at Harry's magic and light exploded all around him. Wandlessly, Harry threw defensive and offensive spells at whatever was attacking him and held on tightly to Teddy's frail, small body. But nothing worked. The light kept getting brighter and brighter and Harry felt as if he were being pressed into a tube.

_No!_

Desperately, Harry threw off some offensive spells all around him in the hope that he would hit whatever was dragging him and Teddy to some other place. What was happening? Where was all the light coming from? Who had been able to break into Grimmauld Place, a place almost impregnable as Hogwarts? Who had been _strong_ enough to break all the protection spells of Sirius' family and Harry's own additions?

As the light began to die, Harry fell to his knees in exhaustion and could not see. The trip to . . . wherever had drained him. He was so tired . . . so tired . . .

_Teddy . . ._

And with that, Harry passed out sideways and instinctively turned onto his back so that Teddy slept on his chest, unaware of the dark-haired man that eyed him warily as the last of the Death Eaters Apparated away to save his own skin.

* * *

"You're late."

Albus paid Severus no mind as he knelt down beside the brown-haired teenager and the baby resting on the teenager's chest. Severus had told him of what Tom was trying to accomplish through his Death Eaters but he had not thought it to possible. After all, _he_ had the Elder Wand, one of the three things you needed to become that certain person. There was no way that Tom's Death Eaters would have accomplished their goal. The person that Tom so desired simply did not exist in this world.

_Interesting_.

Albus eyed the tattoo that lied just south of the teenager's right palm, resting on the inside of his wrist that was bared to Albus. It was black as ink and shimmered under the moonlight, radiating a hint of some kind of magic that Albus knew not. He recognized what the tattoo represented but Albus could not truly believe his eyes. It could not be possible . . .

_A glamour? A tattoo laced with magic? No . . ._

Albus frowned slightly. If the tattoo was not a fake and in fact _real_, then that would mean that the teenager was whom Tom wished to summon. That would mean that Tom had succeeded and this teenager, along with whom Albus assumed was his sibling, would be hunted down until either Tom accomplished what he wanted or the poor boy killed Tom, something that could only be done by one, single person.

_But if he isn't . . ._

The boy and his sibling would be fine. Of course Albus would have to get the Sorting Hat to confirm that the tattoo was a fake but after that, the teenage boy would be free to leave with his sibling (granted that Severus had successfully gotten the message to Tom that the summoning had been an utter failure). Then the unconscious teen would have no fear of being chased throughout the world because he had simply chosen the wrong tattoo to get on his inner, right wrist.

_But if he is . . ._

Then there was only one explanation, an explanation that only the Sorting Hat and Albus believed to be true.

Albus could only hope that the boy wasn't whom Tom wanted him to be.

_But that magic . . . it is not something I recognize. Neither Light magic nor Dark . . . Just magic._

"I have found that most often, the other party had arrived too early. I simply arrived on time," Albus said with a smile as he once again stood up.

"So is he who we think he is?" James Potter asked, glancing around to see if any Death Eaters had stayed and were watching them.

Albus sighed. "Only the Sorting Hat can be certain."

"The Sorting Hat?" Severus questioned, a frown spreading itself onto his thin lips.

Albus nodded, casting another glance at the unconscious teenager that he guessed was about thirteen or fourteen. He could not explain the feeling he felt when looked upon the teen's face, the feeling that whisper incoherent words as if it were trying to tell him something important. It was not as if the teen's appearance called out to him, stating that he _recognized_ the boy. No, this face was unfamiliar and new to Albus. The teenager had a cut on his left cheek from what Albus guessed was a knife and another cut that went straight through the teenager's right eyebrow and towards his right eye, the mark ending just a hair away from his right cheek. His neck had strange, dark green markings that wrapped around his neck three times in a language Albus could not identify. While Albus could only guess the boy's eye color, his light brown hair could just barely reach his shoulders.

So, no, Albus did not detect any sort of characteristic that he would be familiar with.

Yet . . .

"Yes, the Sorting Hat. He is the only one who can tell us if this boy is whom the Dark Lord thought he would be."

"If this poor bloke is, there's no telling what Voldie will make him do," Sirius Black said as he gestured to the man on the ground.

"But how can this teenager be _him_?" James Potter questioned his companions, turning his head so that he could stare at Albus. "Albus, how is this possible?"

Albus gave a soft sigh and steeled himself for their disbelief. "There are multiple dimensions, different paths if you will, that are worlds like ours yet not. These different paths are the result of all possibilities. For instance, there might be a path in which Lord Voldemort won the war and took over like a plague."

Everyone shivered at the thought of a world where that crazed murderer had actually _won_ and had _complete_ control over everything.

Remus Lupin slapped his forehead, suddenly realizing something. "Of course! Different dimensions. I've read about that theory in a muggle library."

"Moony, do you _ever_ stop reading?" asked Sirius, his tone slightly curious.

"Continuing on," Albus said loudly, trying to keep Sirius and Remus from going off-topic. "Despite how all the paths are different, every world has one person in common."

Severus' eyes narrowed, his arms crossing themselves against his chest. "You mean that this boy could be another world's-" His sentence came to a stop, almost scared to speak his fear.

Upon seeing Albus nodding his head, Severus held the bridge of his nose between his right index finger and thumb.

"Albus, that's ridiculous! Other worlds? Really? If that were true, then Voldemort would have tried to summon _another_ Voldemort, one that had already won!" James exclaimed.

"That's just what we need," Sirius muttered.

Albus shook his head. "Voldemort may not know of the different dimensions and if he does, he would not summon a counterpart of himself."

"Because the Dark Lord does not share," Severus said quietly. "If there were to be another Dark Lord, one with greater power than this one, the Dark Lord would attempt to kill him. There is also the possibility that another world's Dark Lord would simply kill our Dark Lord and take his place. So, no, our Dark Lord would not attempt to summon another version of himself. Assuming, that is, that he is aware of the multiple worlds. After all, he tried to summon _our_ world's . . . you know and not another world's."

Seeing that James seem to accept those answers, Remus spoke up.

"So what are we to do with the boy and the baby? We've already been here for five minutes, discussing different things. Voldemort could be here any minute."

Remus' four companions' eyes swiftly moved to look at the collapsed teenager and the sleeping baby. Albus had said that only the Sorting Hat could tell them whether or not if this teenager was, well, who they thought he was. They couldn't just leave him here to get the hat. Voldemort would surely send Death Eaters to get the boy or come to retrieve the man himself. If that happened, the teen would be as good as dead. So that left only one option.

"We must take him to Hogwarts," Albus said firmly as he kneeled down and gently picked up the baby. "James, would you mind holding him?"

"No, not at all," James replied as Albus handed him the sleeping baby.

Once Albus and Severus Apparated with the man and James and Remus followed close behind, Sirius muttered something before he joined them.

"Should've known Voldie would try to summon the Master of Death."

**A/N- **Don't worry. Everything _will _be explained. This was published on 4-26-14 with the length of 3,390 words .


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter!

I'm so glad you guys like this fanfic so much! Thank you for all the reviews, follows and favorites! I'm trying my best to keep this different from all the other Harry-falls-in-another-dimension-and-is-basically-screwed fanfics but there may be moments that are similar to others. Oh, and I proofread this chapter like ten times. If there's a mistake, I missed it and for that, I'm sorry.

Enjoy!

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_**All alone in space and time.  
There's nothing here but what here's mine.  
Something borrowed, something blue.  
Every me and every you.**_

**-Every You Every Me by Placebo**

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**Chapter Two**

As James, Sirius, Remus, Severus, Albus and their _other _two companions entered Hogwarts, they could hear familiar voices bouncing off the walls.

"Harry James Potter, I am _ashamed _of you and Neville! Your father and I have told you time and time again that you are too young to be involved with the Order! And Neville, your parents _will _be hearing about this once they get here!"

James shook his head, causing his raven hair to become even messier. His son, his _only_ son, had turned fourteen a month ago and he suddenly wanted to be a part of the Order of the Phoenix. _Already!_ James couldn't understand what was going on in his son's mind. His son was a child, _a child_, that didn't yet have to be a part of the war Lord Voldemort was about to wage upon the magical and muggle societies. Yet his son was all too eager to throw himself into the growing fray, to throw his chance at a pleasant, _normal_ future away.

All too eager to throw away the remainder of his childhood.

Lily had told him a few weeks ago that Harry just wanted to be there to protect his parents and the people he considered to be family and friends. She had expressed that Harry was determined and that sooner or later, he _would_ become a part of Voldemort's war. Her words had been soft but frozen, reminding him that Harry _was_ one of the Chosen Ones. He knew that already! James _knew_ that there would come a time that Harry would have to attempt to defeat Voldemort.

He knew that.

But he wished that it wouldn't happen, that Harry wasn't one of the Chosen Ones. Harry was a teenager, a _teenager_! He shouldn't be worrying about battle strategies and what Voldemort might try to pull on him. No, Harry should be worrying about the best way to ask a girl out, what to do for a first date and all the stuff in between. Harry didn't need to worry about the Order of the Phoenix and Voldemort when he and Neville weren't even aware of the Prophecy.

If James and the rest of the Order had their way, Harry and Neville would never know.

"Mom, we weren't trying-"

"Oh, yes, you were! Why else would you two be up before dawn? Huh?"

Only silence followed Lily Potter's words.

"That's what I thought. Now either go back to bed or finish your summer homework."

"But Mom-"

"_Now_."

James could hear Harry grumbling as he, Albus, Severus, Sirius, Remus and company headed towards the Headmaster's office. Shaking his head, James turned his attention back to the conversation his friends were having about their mysterious guest.

". . . he smells quite strange," Remus murmured thoughtfully. "His scent is only partially there . . . Almost like he's shielding it or at least, the part he doesn't want anyone to identify."

Sirius frowned for a moment but then a snicker erupted on his face. "Maybe he's a vampire. Should we prepare for a cat fight, Moony?"

Remus ignored the jab. "I don't think he is. His heart beats."

James nodded in agreement. "I don't think he's a vampire. He just doesn't give off that . . . you know, vampire air."

"Vampire _air_?" Remus echoed, his right eyebrow arched. "You do realize that supernatural beings don't give off air, right? Plants do, but scientists call it oxygen."

"You know what I meant!"

Remus sighed with mock sadness, his shoulders slumped. "I suppose that means I give off werewolf air." He gave James and Sirius a sideways glance, spying James next to him and Sirius next to James. "Does it smell bad? Is that why you've been avoiding me?"

"I haven't-We haven't," James sputtered as Sirius barked a laughed.

"You've done it now, Prongs!" Sirius sang as Albus turned to look at them in amusement while Severus merely rolled his eyes.

"He may have used a scent glamour," Severus supplied, clearing his throat to gain everyone's attention. "There are potions to shield an unhuman scent. Though people have not used these potions for over half a century."

James frowned, his attention now on Severus. "So he could be anything."

"Yes."

"How long before we can know what kid is, Siless?" Sirius asked Severus.

Severus shrugged slightly as he casted a glance at the teenage boy that Sirius was levitating. "That depends. The boy could have taken the potion yesterday or days ago, giving us a range of when to expect boy's scent to reveal itself."

"Severus, you have an estimate," Albus said simply, turning to glance at him to his left.

Severus smirked. "But of course. Because Remus can already partially smell the boy's scent, the potion should wear off tonight."

"So like in twelve hours or so?" Sirius asked in simple English.

Severus nodded.

"Siless, why didn't you just say so?" Sirius mumbled. "You know all that potion stuff gives me a headache!"

"Precisely."

* * *

"Lay him down on the couch. If he should wake, I'm certain he will not respond well to waking up floating in the air," Albus said with a bit of humor, gesturing to the chair he had used magic to change into a couch.

"I don't think he'll respond well period," Severus murmured as he kept his eyes on the brown-haired teen.

Though Remus heard this, he ignored it and instead turned to Albus. "What about the child?"

Albus glanced at James. "Would you perhaps hold the child until the boy wakes up? I do not wish to tell him that we left his sibling unprotected."

"Sibling?" Sirius repeated. "How did you jump to that conclusion?"

Remus answered before Albus could. "The baby smells like he or she is related to the teenager so I think it's okay to assume that they're siblings or something of the sort."

"But Albus doesn't have your sense of smell."

"I merely assumed. James, do you mind holding the child?"

"Of course not," James answered Albus as he sank down into a chair and cradled the child against his chest.

Albus nodded. "Good. Now to wake up the Sorting Hat."

The others watched as Albus waved his wand and brought the hat down from its high shelf. The hat had probably once been black but had faded with age, appearing to be brown in color. It slumped as Albus gently placed the Sorting Hat onto his desk, summoning the courage to wake up the hat. Fawkes, upon seeing what Albus was going to attempt, had taken one look at the hat and disappeared.

"Well, Albus, get on with it," Severus said with a slight sneer, backing up just a bit.

"I will. I am just preparing myself for . . ," Albus' voice faltered, unable to continue on with his sentence.

You see, everyone knew that Sorting Hat only woke up for one reason and one reason _only_. That reason was the Sorting at the beginning of every school year. On that day, the Sorting Hat would awaken and do his job that involved the first years. There was the song he would sing on that day but that was something the Sorting Hat had tacked onto his job. But that was it. The Sorting Hat would stay awake for _only_ that day. No more, no less. For a complete year, he would sleep and come up with the next song.

But nobody knew exactly how the hat would react to being woken up during his sleep.

There was advice that had been passed down from Headmaster to Headmaster that spoke of the Sorting Hat and what to do. Most of the advice spoke of how peculiar the hat was and to merely let it do its own thing. But there was a bit of the advice that absolutely terrified all previous Headmasters and Headmistresses.

Only wake up the Sorting Hat if you _absolutely_ have to.

The question that all Headmasters and Headmistresses had was why that was so important. Why should you be terrified of a _hat_? Though it spoke and was magical, it was a _hat_. Sure, the hat had once been Godric Gryffindor's but seriously, it was a _hat_. A _hat_. What was so scary about a hat?

Some Headmasters and Headmistresses had tried this out and no matter how much the next Headmaster asked, he or she would not speak of it. He or she would merely give the same advice.

Only wake up the Sorting Hat if you _absolutely_ have to.

"For what?" Sirius asked, clearly confused as to why _Albus Dumbledore_ was afraid to wake up a _hat_.

Severus, seeing that Albus' attention was solely on the Sorting Hat, spoke up. "All previous Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts tell their replacements the same thing: don't wake up the hat unless it's _absolutely_ necessary."

Remus couldn't hold back a snort. "Severus, you can't be serious. What could the Sorting Hat _do_?"

Severus narrowed his eyes at the hat, resisting the urge to leave the office. "Exactly."

"I will wake up the Sorting Hat now," Albus said with a bit of confidence as his hand inched closer to the faded hat.

But before Albus could wake up the hat, it twitched, opened its mouth and some of the fabric formed eyebrows to make it seem that the hat had eyes. Everyone flinched and took a half step back from the hat. Even James seemed to lean back in the chair just a little bit more.

"He's here," the Sorting Hat murmured as he shook and trembled. "The Master of Death is here."

Albus blinked, clearly surprised at the hat's reaction to waking up. "So the boy on the couch truly is-"

"Yes. I know a Master of Death when I see one."

"So you _can_ see," Sirius muttered with a sly grin. "Always wondered about that."

Instead of speaking, Remus merely lifted up his left hand and swiftly wacked Sirius on the back of the head.

"Ow!"

"Shut. Up."

Albus ignored Sirius' growl. "Then he truly is not-"

"Of this world? No, that young man has journeyed far from the world he calls his. I am quite surprised that Tom was successful."

Severus crossed his arms over his chest. "Why the surprise? Is it truly so difficult to summon a Master of Death?"

"Of course! Otherwise, everyone would be summoning him or her left and right. For starters, the summoning spell requires the blood of a former Master of Death," the sorting Hat explained, hopping across Albus' desk to get a better look at the Master of Death.

"How would you get your hands on that?" Remus questioned, his eyes lit up with curiosity as he edged a bit closer to the Sorting Hat.

James shook his head, his mind clearly thinking about something else. "That doesn't matter right now. What do we do now? And what about these two kids? I think I speak for all of us when I say that we weren't worried because we didn't _really_ think that teenager was the Master of Death. Now that we know that he is, what do we tell him? How do we _deal_ with this? Voldemort summoned the Master of Death for a _reason_, you know."

Silence followed James' words, reflecting what they were thinking. They didn't _know_ what to do. On one hand, they had someone's children from another dimension and would be worried sick if their children were not returned soon. That meant that they would have to find a way to send them back as well as convince Voldemort that the summoning had been a failure. This seemed like the most logical option. Keep the children safe and send them home back to their parents and dimension. On the other hand, the boy was the _Master of Death_ and_ possibly_ came from a universe where Voldemort had been _defeated_. The boy could very well be able to tell them the way to defeat Voldemort without having Neville and Harry sacrificing themselves. If there was a way, that is.

Even if there wasn't, the Master of Death was rumored to have magical abilities that other witches and wizards did not and could not achieve.

If they were somehow able to convince the boy-

"We cannot keep them in our world," Severus said after a few moments of silence. "We must send them back immediately."

Remus sighed. "Yes, I agree, Severus, but will we be able to?"

"Why wouldn't we? I mean, all we have to do is ask the Sorting Hat what we're supposed to do," Sirius said, gesturing to the hat with his right hand.

The Sorting Hat snorted. "Only you would believe that it could be done so easily, Sirius Black.

"Sorting Hat, please do explain why sending the children back would be difficult. We do not have long to formulate a scheme to keep Voldemort away from the Master of Death," Albus spoke quietly but sternly, his mind slightly distracted by the possibility that the boy could have the answer to the Order's problems.

"I would assume that it would be obvious. The Master of Death was summoned _for a reason_, a reason that the one who summoned him specified. In order to be able to return to his original world, the Master of Death must fulfill his purpose in this world. Of course, there are exceptions to this."

"Such as?" Albus asked when no one dared to.

"Such as if the purpose is outside of his ability. Suggest that the summoner wishes the Master of Death to resurrect a loved one who died years ago. The Master of Death would be unable to fulfill such a request for that is not something he could do. If the Master of Death so wished, he would then be able to return to his world."

Albus stroked his silvery beard as he sat down in his chair and leaned back. "So all that remains is to find out who performed the summoning and the reason they wished to."

"Peter performed the summoning."

Eyes turned to Severus who was absentmindedly rubbing his left forearm.

"Wormtail did?" Sirius choked out, his face decreasing in color as Severus nodded.

"Yes. Whilst I was chosen to make the potion, Peter was chosen to execute the task of summoning the Master of Death."

Remus rubbed his eyes as he sighed. "Because Voldemort doesn't trust any of his other Death Eaters to accomplish his agenda."

"Yes," Severus replied simply.

"So if you send word to Voldemort that the summoning failed, Peter will . . ," James' voice faltered, his eyes visualizing Voldemort's punishment for Peter.

"We can't do that to Wormtail! And what about you, Siless? Voldemort could easily blame you too!" Sirius said loudly, growling at the thought of his two best friends being tortured. "Albus, we _can't_ do that! There must be something else we can do! Anything else!"

Severus sneered at Sirius, grabbing his friend's right arm to force Sirius to look at him. "You know full well that there _isn't_ another option. Unless you think it would be logical to hand over the _Master of Death_ to the _Dark Lord_. Yes, that would be logical. Handing over a _child_ to that abomination who would then force the child to give him a body, make him immortal and whatever else the Dark Lord could think of. Have I gotten through to you _yet_?"

Upon seeing Sirius slowly nod, Severus moved his grip from Sirius' arm to his shoulder and squeezed slightly.

"What are we supposed to do, Albus?" James said as he watched Remus start to pace.

"The only thing we can do, James. Severus and Peter must convince Voldemort that this boy isn't the Master of Death," Albus answered after a few moments of contemplating. "Severus, do you believe that you will successfully convince Voldemort of the supposed failure?"

Severus nodded, crossing his arms against his chest. "Yes, but I am certain that the Dark Lord will merely try again."

"Then tell him that there must be something wrong with the ritual and the potion. Perhaps he gave you the wrong blood or a wrong ingredient was added. We must not let him try this again."

"I'm still confused about why we let him do it the first time," Sirius muttered as his eyes analyzed the supposed Master of Death.

Remus sped up his pacing as he gave Sirius a quick glance. "Because we found out too late. Voldemort had Severus prepare the potion, a potion that even Severus had never heard of or brewed before, and hadn't made Severus aware of the potion's purpose."

"And when Severus was called to Voldemort's side just a couple of hours ago, he found out what it was for and sent his doe to alert us. Once the kids showed up, all the Death Eaters fled for who knows why and Severus sent us his doe again. Five minutes later, we showed up and he then informed Albus that he was late," James explained, smirking at Severus. "Exactly how was Albus late? And what about the rest of us?"

Ignoring how James was desperately trying to lighten up the mood, Severus rubbed his left forearm again and spoke. "The Death Eaters fled because of the Master of Death."

Albus frowned. "Pardon?"

"He had been firing countless defensive and offensive spells at them as he fell into our world. I believe he was quite disoriented and frightened before he promptly collapsed."

Albus heavily leaned back into his chair. "So when the boy awakens, we should expect him to attack us."

"Yes," Severus replied. "I suggest we isolate them in the Infirmary so that he will unable to escape. Madam Pomfrey will key him into the wards and therefore will entrap him in the room. Should he be a werewolf, he will not be able to wonder about the castle."

Pulling up his sleeve, Severus glanced down at his left forearm and slightly winced. "He is calling me. Once I arrive, I will locate Peter and tell him of our plan. I will then inform the Dark Lord that the summoning was failed and must have been flawed. Peter and I will return as soon as possible."

"Wait!" James said loudly, his voice stopping Severus from exiting the office. "What about the other Death Eaters? Didn't they see the boy?"

The Sorting Hat then decided to jump back into the conversation.

"Tell Tom that because there is no Master of Death at this time, the potion and the spell merely summoned a descendent of the Master of Death whose blood he used."

"Is that a lie?" Albus asked the hat.

"No. If there truly isn't a Master of Death during the time of the summoning, then the spell will bring a descendent of the Master of Death whose blood was used in the potion."

Severus nodded at the Sorting Hat. "Thank you."

Then he left.

"So," Sirius broke the silence. "Does anyone want to bet that Voldemort doesn't buy it?"

**A/N-** . . . That was a _lot _of talking! Sorry for the kind of abrupt ending. I'm _tired_. This was published on 5-10-14 with the length of 3,312 words.


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter or any songs I use in this fanfic!

Siless wasn't a spelling error, but that is all I'm saying. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Sorry for any errors. I read it over only once.

* * *

_**I need a hero!  
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night.  
He's gotta be strong and he's gotta be fast and he's gotta be fresh from the fight.**_

**-Holding Out for a Hero by Frou Frou**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Peter stared at the rising sun momentarily, letting his muscles relax from the tension that had settled there hours ago. He felt a burst of protectiveness as he analyzed how the sun's rays cascaded over Hogsmeade and the grounds of Hogwarts, bathing the residents with its comforting warmth while he stood in the shadows. _This_ was what Peter was fighting to protect, _this_ was the reason he found the strength within himself to repeatedly return to Voldemort's side. _This_ was why he bore the Dark Mark on his left forearm and played the loyal servant.

His friends, his family.

James, the Gryffindor that had noticed him in the background and had brought him out of his shell. Sirius, the other Gryffindor who made friends with anyone and everyone unless they hurt him or his friends. Remus, the Ravenclaw who had also been dragged into the group and out of his books. Severus, the Slytherin who was in the same boat he was, the only one who _truly_ understood what he sacrificed and had keep James in line when Remus and professors couldn't.

_They_ were what he fought to protect with every drop of magic that ran in his veins.

"Severus . . . We really summoned the Master of Death?" Peter asked him as they started walking towards Hogwarts.

Severus nodded his head. "Yes. He has yet to awaken, though, so we do not know if he is friend or foe."

Peter eyes widened.

If the Dark Lord found out that Severus had lied to him, Severus would never again see the light of day. The Dark Lord never took disloyalty or lies lightly; whoever dared to betray or lie to him would never be granted the sweet release of death. That was why Severus and Peter's positions as Albus' spies were a very risky and dangerous game. Severus and Peter had to maintain their images around the Dark Lord as disgruntled friends of the Order who felt they had more to gain with the Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort. They also had to be cautious about how they acted and what they said. If the Dark Lord were to ever suspect the truth about Severus and Peter, they would have to go into hiding until the war was over.

That was something they couldn't afford to do.

Not with so many lives on the line.

"Peter," Severus began, giving Peter a sideways glance. "When you performed the ceremony, did you have . . . certain thoughts about the Master of Death?"

Peter frowned slightly, confusion etching across his face. "Thoughts?"

"You know," Severus said as he absentmindedly gestured with his right hand. "What you expected of him and such. Was there something particular you wished for the Master of Death to do?"

"I don't know. I mean, I remember thinking it'd be nice if we had some help defeating the Dark Lord . . . Someone who could help us prevent as many deaths as possible . . . Why?"

Severus' feet halted as he rubbed his eyes, a headache starting to form. "I should have known that the task of sending away the boy and his sibling would not be an easy task. Peter, remind me to strangle you later."

"Pardon?"

"You have made our lives more difficult, that's what."

"I'm . . . sorry?"

Severus sighed deeply. "I will explain on the way."

* * *

"The Master of Death?" Lily faintly asked her husband as she stared at the slumbering boy tucked into a hospital bed. "You must be joking."

James shook his head as he grasped his wife's slender hand. "Afraid not."

"But it's just a story . . . Even if the items were real—"

"They _are _real, Lily."

"But—"

"You know about my cloak and you know about the wand. Why is it so hard to believe that they're part of the legend?" James asked, a hint of a smile lacing the edges of his mouth.

Lily shrugged with an air of frustration and played with her long, auburn hair. "Because it's just so . . . _unbelievable_! I mean, with three mere items you become the Master of Death? How is that possible? Exactly how does one _master_ death? Are we saying that Death is a person now? I know that he is portrayed as such in the story but it's just a story! Whilst the items may be real, it doesn't mean that you can become the Master of Death. It's _impossible_!"

James chuckled. "No, it's _magic_."

"It's just . . . if he's really the Master of Death . . . then Voldemort—"

"Doesn't know anything. Severus is out there right now, convincing him that the summoning was a fluke. By the time Voldemort even _considers_ to check the kid out himself, the kid and his sibling will back in their world and away from him. Everything is going to be fine, Lily."

". . . I don't think so, James. Voldemort is _desperate_ to have a body again. If he even suspects that this boy can help him, he'll find a way into Hogwarts."

"This is _Hogwarts_ we're talking about. No one has ever been able to break into here!"

Lily chewed on her bottom lip as she glanced out a window. "There's a first time for everything."

James suppressed a sigh and decided to change the subject. "So what was Harry doing up? I heard something about the Order."

The change of subject worked and caught Lily's attention.

"_Your_ son and his best friend woke up when you barged out of our rooms and decided that it would a wonderful time to once again try to get into the Order's business," Lily huffed as she shook her head.

"Oh?"

Lily's light green eyes narrowed at her husband. "Oh? That's all you have to say? James, do you even realize what's happening?"

"Hmm . . . no?"

"James, Harry isn't stupid! Neither is Neville. They _know_ that's something wrong and that we're hiding something. They _know_ that there's something not right about their dreams of Voldemort. They _know_ that's something is wrong with them."

"There's nothing wrong with them," James immediately defended. "They just . . . seem to have a connection with Voldemort that's easily explained by the—"

"The Prophecy, yes! But they don't know about the Prophecy, do they? They don't know what is going to happen, what _will_ happen!"

James flinched.

"James . . . we can't . . . We can't hide this anymore," Lily murmured sadly as her head slightly bowed. "I think it's time we told Harry the truth."

* * *

Harry couldn't believe what his parents were saying. He couldn't believe the words coming out of their mouths. His parents knew what was wrong with Neville and him and they were hiding it from him. How could they? How had they been able to lie to his face? Why had they been hiding this prophecy from him? What was this prophecy about? What did it have to do with Neville? What did it have to do with _him_? How did this prophecy try him to Voldemort?

Harry leaned against the wall for support and resisted the urge to sink to the floor. He hadn't predicted learning this kind of information when he snuck down to the Hospital Wing under his cloak. No, he thought he would get a glimpse of the boy that Remus and Sirius had been talking about and maybe get to talk to him. He hadn't thought that his world would come crashing down around him.

Maybe he was being unreasonable and dramatic, but his parents had _lied_ to him. They had lied! He had never thought that his parents would lie about something like this. This concerned his welfare and his future. How could he not feel betrayed? How could he not feel angry? His parents had deliberately kept information from him when he needed it most.

"_Lily, we can't—_"

"_We have to! We can't protect him forever!_"

"_Yes_, _we can! We just have to find a way to kill Voldemort-_"

"_James, we've tried! And tried and tried and tried! But we cannot keep Harry from his fate! Do you think I want our son, _our son_, to have such a future?_"

"_Of course not! But, Lily, that boy there is the _Master of Death_. If anyone can help us, he can! The dimension he comes from . . . Maybe Voldemort was defeated there._"

Silence followed James' words as Harry strained his ears to his mother's reply from around the corner. It took every bit of his self-control to not go around the corner and demand to know what his fate was exactly.

_The Master of Death? I thought that was just a story_.

His eyes narrowed as his mind began to wonder. He had thought his mother had mentioned the Master of Death just moments ago but had been too far away to hear her voice. But now . . . He was sure that the boy in there was no ordinary person. He had mastered Death and apparently was not of this world.

_Whatever that means._

"_I thought we were going to return the children back to their world._"

Harry heard his father sigh.

"_We are. It's just . . . It may not be that simple._"

"_James, what are you saying?_"

"_I'm saying that it all depends on Wormtail._"

"_Why?_"

Harry shuddered at his mother's tone of voice. While her voice had been soft, it had held a sharp edge to it which told him that his mother was _not _happy about being left in the dark.

_Sucks, doesn't it?_

"_He's the one who summoned the poor kid._"

_Okay . . . what does that mean?!_

"_Oh. So that means that if he thought . . ._"

Lily's voice trailed off, leaving Harry frustrated that he was being left out of the loop _again_.

_Typical_.

"_Yeah._"

"_Oh, James. What do we tell the boy? How are we supposed to—_"

Harry could tell that his mother's maternal instincts were kicking in and sending her into a panic, a panic that he didn't understand.

"_Hold on there, Lily. We don't know what Peter was thinking about at the time. Heck, he could have been thinking about pranking Sirius or something. There's no need to panic._"

"_Yet._"

Harry's parents fell into a tense silence so Harry figured that he wouldn't be learning any more secrets his parents had. Turning away from the Hospital Wing's doors, Harry swiftly but quietly made his way back to his family's room in the Visitors Wing. Neville was waiting for him there, eager to know what was going on.

Harry wasn't quite sure what he was going to tell him.

* * *

The day went by fast, oblivious to the problems festering inside of Hogwarts. Albus , James, Lily, Peter, Remus, Severus and Sirius had spent the morning the Headmaster's office discussing the ritual and the possibility that the boy would be stuck there. It had been quite a heated debate with the Sorting Hat who had been adamant that the boy would remain until he fulfilled his purpose. When lunch time had rolled around, James and Sirius went to entertain Harry and Neville whilst the other had other tasks. Peter and Severus had gone to their rooms to shower and sleep. Lily and Remus had gone to the library to research the ritual and everything that it entailed. Albus had attended his Headmaster duties and visited the slumbering Master of Death and his sibling. Everyone had remained busy until just minutes away from the moon's rising, the time that Severus had estimated that the boy's potion would wear off.

"I wonder why they haven't woken up yet."

Albus glanced at Peter. "I imagine it is because they are in a new dimension and the journey had been cumbersome."

Madam Pomfrey snorted as she sealed the doors with a wave of her wand to make no one came in. "That and being magically exhausted."

"Magically exhausted?" Lily echoed, crossing her arms as she began to think.

"Yes," Madam Pomfrey answered as she swiftly moved to the boy's bed. "The Sorting Hat told me that the trip requires the person's magic to ensure their arrival. In this case, it drained both the boy and the baby."

"So, Moony, can you smell him now?" Sirius said with an easy grin, his left arm resting on Remus' shoulders. "Boy, I hope he's a vampire!"

Remus shook his head with a frown. "No."

"It's okay, Moony," James said as he gave Remus a pat on the shoulder. "I'm sure either Albus or Siless will figure it out. You just get to the Forbidden Forest before you go all werewolf on us."

With a sigh, Remus turned and headed towards the doors when a sound stopped him.

The baby had woken up.

Lily, being the only mother in the room, instantly moved towards the baby and picked the baby up.

"Is the baby a boy or a girl?" she asked softly, smiling down at the adorable baby.

"A boy. I did a medical history to make sure there were no diseases that I would need to be aware of."

"Aww! Look at his cute face! What pretty black hair," Lily cooed as she slowly rocked the baby boy in her arms.

The baby, despite being in the loving arms of a mother, opened his eyes and gazed up at her. He tilted his head slightly to the left as if he were analyzing her. When he realized that this was not any woman he knew, his mouth opened and he began to cry. Lily tried to calm him down but his cries only grew louder and louder, smothering Remus' shouts of warning.

"Da-Da!" the baby boy wailed, his hands waving about. "Da-Da!"

The baby boy finally began to quieten down when growls rippled through the air, catching the attention of every witch and wizard in the room. Their eyes moved and landed on the Master of Death's bed that now contained a black, growling werewolf.

"He's a werewolf!" Peter yelled, his index finger pointing at what a muggle would think to be an abnormal sized wolf.

"More importantly, he is a werewolf who has not drank any Wolfsbane potion," Albus said grimly, his eyes focused on the werewolf's movements.

Behind them, Remus began to bark to gain their attention. Severus was the only one who dared to take his dark eyes off the Master of Death.

"What is it, Remus?"

The light brown werewolf began to whine and placed his paw over his snout, desperate for Severus to understand. Upon seeing Remus moving his paw, Severus remembered what that meant.

"_Legilimens_."

The world around Severus fell away as he took a headfirst dive into his friend's mind. Though they had practiced this several times, Severus was very cautious as he gently settled down to converse with Remus.

"He wants his cub back!"

Severus muttered a curse. "We can't give him a _baby_! He did not take the potion—"

"The baby is _pack_. Werewolves do not hurt pack!"

Severus remained silent for a few moments before he replied.

"Fine."

After carefully but swiftly exiting Remus' mind, Severus turned around to see his companions pointing their wands at the dark werewolf. He scowled as he reached over and picked up the baby boy, ignoring everyone's protests. He would explain _after_ he calmed down the Master of Death. It would not be in their favor if they managed to anger a person that could help them. Not to mention that Severus did not feel like becoming a werewolf tonight or having his insides rip out from his body.

"Here," said Severus calmly as he edged closer to the werewolf until he was just a foot away and placed the baby on the floor. "We mean no harm."

Remus had once told him that while werewolves who hadn't taken Wolfsbane potion were unpredictable, they did understand the intent of the witches and wizards that dared to be within a few feet of them. Whilst Remus had not been clear if it was instinct or some kind of mind magic that werewolves wielded, Severus knew that he needed to make the Master of Death understand that he and the others meant no harm. If the werewolf even _suspected _that they would not hesitate in slaying him or his cub, the werewolf would attempt or succeed in tearing them limb from limb.

The raven-furred werewolf's growls quietened a bit as he moved forward and gently sank his teeth into the baby's clothes and slowly dragged him to the back of the Infirmary, keeping his eyes on Severus and the others all the while. He then stopped and let go of the baby to adopt a protective stance in front of the baby. His green eyes flashed dangerously as he stared at them as if daring them to just _try_ to take his cub away from him.

"Siless, are you crazy?" Sirius asked in a hushed whisper, fearing that he would somehow offend the other werewolf.

"Remus told me that the werewolf merely wanted his cub back. Are you suggesting that I should have allowed him to attack us when there was an easier solution to our dilemma?"

Lily resisted the urge to shake Severus' shoulders as she gazed at the baby behind the werewolf. "I can't believe you just handed him the baby!"

"If I had not done so, he would have proceeded to attack us to regain his cub. The baby is in no danger of which I am aware. Look."

Everyone's eyes took in the sight of baby boy grabbing fistfuls of fur to help him to stand on his feet and cooing happily. The werewolf did not take his eyes off of them but his growls ceased as he began to purr, obviously enjoying the company of his cub. They were sure their night could not get any weirder until Peter pointed something out.

"Did the kid just call the werewolf Da-Da?"

**A/N-** Sorry about the wait! This was published on 6-4-14 with the length of 3,126 words.


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer- Do I look like J.K. Rowling? No! So that means I don't own Harry Potter and the songs I use. Who knew? (Seriously, who knew? I thought all this time that J.K. Rowling owed me money! Could've used a reality check!)

Yes, I changed the rule for werewolves. Everyone does it (it's fun when we screw with everything)! Their transformations hurt for the first twelve times (the first one being the worst) and then their bodies become accustomed to them, leaving the transformations pain-free. If you don't think that's not possible, think about this: why doesn't it hurt for an Animagus to shift? Oh, and they magically (pun intended) still have their clothes on when they shift back.

Note- If something isn't canon, it means I _changed_ it. So, please, leave the Harry Potter books at the door because they won't be able to help you here.

Note 2- Okay, I've experiencing pain in both of my hands (more in my right; the left only hurts if I use it too long in the stead of the right) which I suspect is carpal tunnel syndrome. You know what that means? It means I typed the last half of this chapter with only my frickin' left hand (and my dominate hand is my _right_ one!).

* * *

_**Ever since I could remember, everything inside of me just wanted to fit in.  
I was never one for pretenders, everything I tried to be just wouldn't settle in.**_

**Monster by Imagine Dragons**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

His human side was currently unavailable to consult with, but he, the wolf side of Harry Potter, was certain that the human wizards and werewolf before him were deceased. Resisting the urge to look back his cub, he continued to stare at them with bared teeth in the hope that they would refrain from touching his cub again. Here he was in familiar yet unfamiliar territory and he had awoken to _his cub_ pleading for rescue from the red-haired witch. Surely they had known better than to pick up a werewolf's cub without permission. If they had not obviously gained the trust of another werewolf, he would have sunken his teeth into each and every one of them until their screams died.

. . . Maybe.

He recognized most of their scents as pack members, members that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were _dead_. That left him debating whether or not he should just kill them. After all, they had touched _his_ cub and that was punishable by death in the werewolf community. You just _did not_ mess with someone's cub. Period. But since they were pack, didn't that give them the right to touch his cub? The werewolf part of Harry could not figure this situation out. His pack was dead yet they were standing before him, staring at him with eyes that didn't recognize him.

That tore him up inside.

Pack _always_ recognized each other. _Always_.

Then why didn't they recognize him?

With that issue aside, he knew that one of his enemies was just several feet away from him. This enemy, one equal with the Snake, was the one he had deemed as the Betrayer. It was another impossibility because he _knew_ that the Betrayer was dead. Yet the old man was standing there with curious, grim eyes. Was the Betrayer planning on controlling his human side again? Was that why he had somehow come back from the dead? If so, why was his pack by side his side? Why were they obviously siding with the old when they swore their loyalty was with his human side?

No, they wouldn't do that.

They would rather die.

His pack . . . these familiar scents were not his pack. His pack would have never looked at him with such eyes, eyes that spoke of fear, anxiety and curiosity. They wouldn't have feared to near him since they knew that he would not attack them. They would have opened the doors and allowed him to run free in the forest with his fellow werewolf, Lupin.

Ah, their werewolf appeared to be and smelled of Lupin, a name he remembered only because of Lupin's werewolf status. But Lupin wouldn't have stayed away from him with such caution. No, Lupin would have playfully tackled him and moved on to nuzzle the cub behind him. The cub that he knew that was of Lupin's blood, someone _his_ Lupin would have never failed to recognize.

That werewolf was not Lupin.

These people were not his pack.

Then what made the Betrayer? Was he an imposter as well? Or was he the original who had brought forth such imposters? What of the red-haired witch and dark-haired wizard beside the Betrayer? Their scents were new yet their faces were not. He, being a werewolf, did not rely on faces to know whom he was dealing with. No, he relied on scent and scent alone. But his nose didn't recognize them.

Maybe his human side would.

"Da-Da!"

His head twitched as he resisted the urge to gaze at his cub. He could not afford to take his eyes off these people. He did not know if they were merely waiting for his guard to lower or if they truly were peaceful. If they tried anything . . . He would kill them.

"Da-Da!" his cub repeated, patting his soft, black fur. "Da-Da!"

His cub clearly wanted his attention, but what was an upset cub compared to a possible attack from half a dozen magic-wielding humans? He had already failed his cub's blood father and mother; he would not fail his cub as well.

"Albus, get the child away from him! Do you understand what he could _do_ to that baby?!"

Werewolves may be thought as ignorant of human languages during the full moon, but that was not so. Yes, it was a struggle and took years to learn to decipher what filth fell from their mouths, but it wasn't impossible. That was why he snarled at the elderly woman who smelled of countless potions and cleanliness, a scent that was also familiar to him.

How had he missed the witch that had helped him through his first transition and had kept his human side alive? Had he been so throw off by his dead pack mates' imposters that he had not caught her scent? He shouldn't have allowed himself to be distracted as such. This woman was probably the only person that he knew was alive and well, something that made his shoulders slightly relaxed.

But was she an imposter as well? She smelled the same.

Then again, so did the others.

Baring his teeth, his eyes flickered to the Betrayer and cursed him. The Betrayer was probably playing another game, another game that would end with piles of bodies on another battlefield during another war. The Betrayer always took a great interest in examining his reactions of his human side and dissecting until he knew more ways of manipulating his human side.

He would not play this game again.

Not unless the Betrayer desired to play a game of predator and prey, casting himself as the prey that he, the werewolf, would take great joy in hunting down. Yes, _that_ was a game that he would have much pleasure in. He didn't think that the Betrayer would agree to that kind of game, though. Unless he provided an even less likable option—

"We cannot, Poppy," answered Albus. "It would seem that the baby is his child."

He, the werewolf side of Harry Potter, could sense that the Betrayer did not intend to take his cub, but he had been fooled by the old man before. Who was to say he wouldn't again? So until the sunrise came, he would keep an eye on the Betrayer and the Imposters.

Then it would his human side's problem.

* * *

Lily took a step towards the Master of Death and his child. "I agree with Madam Pomfrey."

"Whoa there!" Sirius shouted, waving his arms wildly above his head. "The guy just wanted his kid back! Now you want to take him away?! Do you guys _want_ to be torn apart by a werewolf? I'm too young to die!"

Remus barked as if he were in agreement with Sirius.

"See! Moony agrees with me! Tell them, Siless. Tell them that they're crazy!"

Severus ignored Sirius as he turned and walked steadily towards the doors. "If they are unaware of their lack of sanity, Sirius, then you have already made it quite clear to them."

"Where are you going?" James asked with a frown.

"I have taken notice that the werewolf is hostile towards our presence and wish to not agitate him further. I suggest you all do the same should he decide that one of you would make a delicious snack."

Of course, Severus' words started an argument in which Madam Pomfrey and Lily were against leaving a _human baby_ with a _werewolf_ who _hadn't_ taken Wolfsbane. Sirius and James, on the other hand, stood by what Severus had relayed from Remus' mind (a task that was always difficult to do). Peter, like always, was in the middle where he could see both sides and could only watch as his friends descended into chaos. Remus chose to pace back and forth, watching the other werewolf intently as if he were trying to dissect the Master of Death.

Albus was the only one who took notice before he spoke and tried to establish peace once again.

* * *

Remus knew this scent.

He _knew_ it.

Yet it wasn't the same. There was something off about it and unfamiliar which he assumed was the werewolf part of his scent. But that didn't really matter; what mattered was the fact that Remus had a sneaky suspicion about the Master of Death's true identity. If Remus was correct about the boy's identity, then the color of his hair was false. There was no way that _he_ would have brown hair unless he had dyed it or had a glamour on.

But if the boy _was_ who Remus thought he was, then why had he growled at them? Why did he feel threatened? They would have been considered pack and he would have not minded that Lily had been holding his cub.

None of this made any sense—

Remus' left ear twitched and he turned his head, his eyes catching the image of his pack exiting the Infirmary. He blinked. It would seem that Albus had been able to get his pack mates to calm down and leave as Severus had suggested.

_Good_, Moony growled in the back of his mind.

"Stay with them, won't you, Remus?" Albus said softly as he patted Madam Pomfrey's shoulder and sent her to her rooms.

Remus nodded and resumed his pacing.

It would seem he would have all night to wonder about the identity of the Master of Death.

. . . It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Back in his office, Albus paced about as he muttered to himself. His mind was whirling with thoughts about the Master of Death. There was something that didn't add up. When Albus had first looked at the boy, he had been sure that the boy's face was his true one, but the wolf's fur had not been brown as his hair.

It had been black as ink.

So unlike his brown hair.

How curious.

"If James also had the cloak in the other dimension, how did this boy get it? Did another Harry Potter bestow it upon him? Where did he find the stone? And what about the wand?" Albus murmured to himself, his right hand stroking his silvery beard.

So many questions that could not be answered for at least another twelve hours.

What a tragedy.

"Perhaps they were not given to him," Albus whispered sadly, visualizing the boy killing a Harry Potter for the cloak. "Perhaps he—"

"It cannot be so, Albus Dumbledore."

Albus turned his head to see the Sorting Hat awake on his high shelf, staring with his unseeing, nonexistent eyes. How long had the Sorting Hat been watching him, Albus wondered as he gazed at the aged hat.

"Why not?" Albus inquired. "Is that not how the Elder Wand passes from one master to another?"

The Sorting Hat waited a moment before answering.

"Do the Deathly Hallows not differ, Albus Dumbledore? If so, then how can you say that their claiming is one and the same?"

Albus blinked, the wheels turning round and round inside his mind. "I fear that I do not understand."

The Sorting Hat heaved a sighed. "Very well. We shall start at the beginning. Albus Dumbledore, you must first understand that the Deathly Hallows are like wands. They choose the Master of Death."

"They choose?" Albus breathed, his surprise clearly written across his wrinkles.

"Yes. Should they find one whom they deem worthy, that is," the Sorting Hat answered before going on. "The Elder Wand amuses itself with temporary masters and clouds their minds whilst driving them to insanity. That would not be the case should the wielder be the Master of Death. The Resurrection Stone tends to hide from witches and wizards, hoping one day its brothers will speak of one who is worthy. The Cloak of Invisibility currently enjoys being passed down from parent to child within the Potter family. They do these things as they search for a new Master of Death."

Albus nodded absentmindedly as he mulled over that information. "So if they found another Master, they could leave their current masters without any bloodshed."

"Yes."

"So this Master of Death could be anyone, someone unfamiliar to us," Albus whispered before something struck him.

"Could the Master of Death be Dark?"

"The Deathly Hallows do not see Light and Dark magic. They take into account only that their master would not abuse them and their powers. So, yes, the Master of Death could be of Dark magic."

"Then the boy could have been on Tom's side of the war. If there had been a war in his world, that is."

"Possibly."

Albus sighed.

How could they expect this person to help them if he had been on the wrong side?

They couldn't.

* * *

Morning came quickly, its light lazily warming Harry as he shifted back into his human form. His head was then bombarded by clips of his wolf's side memory from last night's transformation, a transformation that _shouldn't _have happened yet. Nevertheless, Harry dove into the clips and absorbed what his wolf had seen and experienced. A few moments later Harry's mouth twisted into a snarl and his loose hands became fists.

_Dumbledore . . . I should have known he'd be the one to summon me!_

**A/N—** Okay, I know it's mean to end the chapter like that, but I want you guys to wonder . . . Stuff happened, though. Remus is suspicious about Harry's scent, Albus and had a discussion about the Deathly Hallows, you guys got to see through Harry's wolf's eyes, and apparently, Harry knows he can be summoned! 0_0 This was published on 6-23-14 with the length of 2,535 words.


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